


Babyhunters

by Yidhra



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Ass-Kicking, Claire is a college student, Curse words everywhere, Gen, I have a colorful vocabulary, I'm not sorry, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jim and Toby are babies, abuse of coffee, agressive worrying, babyhunters AU, college students suffering through midterms and shit, extreme nerdiness, fight me, seriously watch out it's like a minefield of fucks, what do you want from me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2018-10-01 23:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10203440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yidhra/pseuds/Yidhra
Summary: Claire honestly doesn't need any of this shit, but what else can she do when the kid she's babysitting turns out to be some chosen one? She's already regretting having picked up that weird amulet at the bridge.





	1. Shit, it glows.

Claire tries to run faster, she's supposed to be at the Lake household in six minutes. Usually she's not late anywhere, her father's strict upbringing has made sure of that; but Professor Brenn had different plans for her and everyone in her class and decided to add twelve minutes to his lecture. In short, she's going to be very late and she should run.

Luckily for her, Miss Lake is a very understanding woman and rarely gets mad at Claire. She's probably the best boss she's ever had. Well, more like the _only_ boss... and Claire is only taking care of her kid. But a job is a job though, and her father always says that she has to be professional at any circumstances, so she slings her bag over her shoulder and runs.

It's a good thing that she's been in kick-boxing and judo (not at the same time, mind you) since she was very little and she has a pretty good physical condition, otherwise she would've had had five asthma attacks already. Okay, maybe she's exaggerating. Three asthma attacks. As it is now, her feet pound against the ground in a pleasant rythm and she can feel her muscles and lungs burning, she likes this sensation.

Still, she's never going to make it at this pace. In a last-minute decision, she decides to take a shortcut (and desperately hopes the canal isn't full of water, that would just be unconvinient). The canal is very dry and very pass-through when she arrives, and Claire is very thankful to whatever god that heard her prayers.

A glint distracts her briefly, making her shield her eyes from the sudden source of light, she shouldn't have left her shades in her room that morning. She decides to stop for a minute to inspect it and catch some breath.

There's a pile of rocks below the bridge, maybe someone dropped a statue or something, Claire honestly doesn't care, it's not really her problem. As she squats near the pile, she can see a glimpse of silver and blue peeking from under the rubble. She digs it up, carefully cleaning the dust before inspecting it. At first glance it looks like a clock, but upon closer inspection, she comes to the conclusion that it isn't. It does have a minute hand and an hour hand, or so it seems, but the numbers are nowhere to be found. It doesn't tick either, and when she shakes it near her ear it doesn't make a sound. Whatever it was, it looks like its broken.

It is pretty though, and shiny. Maybe little Jim would like it, there are no small pieces he can eat or jagged borders that could cut him. She considers for a minute to give it to her brother instead, he's her brother after all, and he has priority. But her little brother is just a baby, not a toddler as Jim is, and he would have little to no use for this... round thingie. In the end she decides to give it to Jim.

She pockets it and resumes running.

She arrives at the house two minutes late so she supposes that it's not that bad, also Miss Lake is too busy searching for her glasses to care. Claire politely points out that she's wearing her glasses on her head. Miss Lake is out of the house in less than five minutes after that and Claire takes Jim to the front porch so they can both wave her goodbye.

 

“Well, Jimmy, I guess we're aaall alone now.”

 

“Clah!” She smiles, a light chuckle escaping her.

 

“Yes, it's me, I'm happy to see you too. What do you think we should do today?” Claire knows that asking that to a two year old boy doesn't make much sense, especially if that two year old only knows four words. She doesn't care.

 

“Spoon!” Ah, one of the fabled four words, what a surprise. Still, Claire knows exactly what he means as she walks into the kitchen, seats Jim, and arranges a variety of clays of different colors in front of him.

 

You see, usually, when Jim says 'spoon', he means anything associated with 'cooking' or 'kitchen', which means A: that he's hungry, or B: that he wants to play 'cooking' with clay. Right now A is pretty much out of the question, as Miss Lake usually feeds Jim at 1pm and Claire's phone is flashing a very obvious 14:26pm to her. So by default it must be B.

Claire is very proud of being able to understand a toddler with just one word, she is also weirded out by this, because she's pretty sure that only parents have this supernatural ability (her mother's conversations with Enrique are seriously weird).

She lets Jim play for a while, he's a little angel sent from heaven, as always, and just plays by himself while Claire sits beside him doing some homework. She has taken to talking to him about what she's studying at the moment, not because she hopes he's going to just learn all of it and become a genius, but rather because she finds it helps her memorize better. Also Jim is a very good listener; of course, it has to do with the fact that he can't speak yet, but that doesn't keep him from babbling does it?

So Claire talks about the influences of Shakespeare in modern literature and Jim nods like he understands while playing with clay. A blessing, really.

She's going to put back the books in her bag (it's time to watch Jim's favourite show on TV) when she sees the silver round thing she picked in the canal and remembers her plan to give it to Jim. To be honest, Claire isn't really sure that giving a child something you found on the street is a good idea, but her brain is too fried and high on caffeine after the last round of exams to care and, as everyone knows, being a college student is basically the 'wrong choices & bad decisions' simulator; so she gives him the thing, and he loves it.

He loves it more and starts squealing in joy when the thing starts glowing and, really, Claire is very happy that he likes her present, but she's pretty sure that it shouldn't do that. Also, it could be dangerous, so she guesses she has to take it back right? Right. Apparently wrestling a glowy thing back from a two year old can be more difficult than one thinks. What ensues is a pretty comical silent struggle.

The moment she manages to coax Jim into giving her the glowing circle of doom an eldritch horror barges into the house through the basement door. Seriously, it's a real eldritch horror, it has six eyes, four arms and is as tall as... well, it's taller than Claire, that's for sure. And right behind Eldritch (Claire supposes she'll call it that, for lack of an introduction) in storms... something. Anyways, it's bigger.

Jim looks like he likes them already, Claire screams and throws a vase with flowers (that the bigger one eats) at the monsters and Eldritch appears to be talking but Claire is very busy losing her shit and trying to get Jim out of that room. She doesn't succeed, the big one (that Claire is going to name Goliath because she's not very imaginative) snatches her up from the back of her jacket when she's about to reach the stairs. For a moment everything is silent. Claire is breathing through her nose tryig not to hyperventilate, calm down, and come up with an escape plan at the same time.

 

“Master Claire! It is a pleasure to meet you, the chosen of the amulet of daylight. It is an honor very few-”

 

“Uhm, e-excuse me... wha- I mean, who are you?”

 

“Ah, yes, I believe some introductions are to be delivered! I am known as Blinky, and this,” he makes a pause, motioning to Goliath, “is Aaargh.” Claire decides that she prefers the names she gave them, though she's not going to contradict anything a massive sentient rock says, at least not out loud. “And, eh, where was I?”

 

“Amulet, chosen, honor.” Aaargh-Goliath reminds him. Claire decides that this is a moment as good as any other to try to escape, so she wriggles one arm out of the jacket while making sure Jim doesn't fall with the other, and then repeats the proccess to free herself. This, of course, is done pretty quickly, granting her a few seconds of confused looks before the intruders realize what's going on.

Jim squeals in delight as she runs upstairs, definetly unaware of the two massive monsters running after them. Claire uses her few advantage seconds to put Jim under Miss Lake's bed and close the door behind her. She doesn't like that she has to leave the kid alone but she can't just fight those things while carrying him around. And with that out of the picture and the two creatures now before her... she doesn't know how is she going to do this.

Claire might have learnt some judo while she was a child and practice kick-boxing weekly, but none of those were meant to fight whatever these things are. Just one look at them tells her that, were she to punch them, she would probably just tear her knuckles apart. They also look too heavy to get them into a judo hold.

 

Well, she's fucked.

 

She's about to do some stupidity when the ring bells. She sees Eldritch and Goliath stiffen mid step, still in the stairs, then share a glance and _make a run for it_. Claire doesn't know why, or who's at the door, but she could kiss them right now. She retrieves Jim, who has crept from under the bed and looks like he's having the time of his life chewing on the glowing amulet (Claire guesses he got it back when she was distracted), and cautiously walks downstairs. She's still not sure if the monsters have left for good but whoever is outside seems to be getting impatient, so she decides to get the door first. Maybe they can help her somehow, call the police... or something.

Every ounce of gratitude seeps away from her the moment she opens the door. Standing there, in all his stupid douchebagey glory, is Steve. He looks as smug as if he had just won a gold medal, an oscar and an emmy, and Claire wants to punch him. Then again, he always looks like that, and Claire always feels like punching him, so nothing new to see here.

 

“Hey babe.”

 

“How did you get this adress? You know, nevermind, just get lost, I'm busy.”

 

“C'mon babe, don't be like that, we could hang out, watch a movie-” Apparently Jim is both an angel and a damn hero, because he starts crying like Steve just bitch-slapped him and he shows no signs of stopping. Steve makes a face like someone gently rubbed his face with a rotten egg but tries to regain his composure. He fails.

 

“Look, Steve, I really am busy, I can't talk now...” Jim starts squirming in her grasp and she has to use one of her knees to balance him. “Ugh, I have to go-”

 

“No prob, babe, we'll talk about our date another tim-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” The moment she closes the door behind her Jim goes from 'Help I'm Dying' to 'what a beautiful day isn't it?' in 0,3 seconds. She's torn between thinking that he just doesn't like Steve and _knowing_ that he doesn't like Steve. She gives him a full-on grandma kiss and Jim giggles.

Coming back to the harsh reality, there were two massive things in the house two minutes ago, and she's still not sure they left.

Claire picks up the bat Miss Lake keeps near the front door (for security purposes) with her right hand, somehow balances Jim in her left hip, and starts searching every room. In the end the house is empty and Claire feels both relieved and disappointed.

The rest of the evening is uneventful, which helps Claire think about what the hell just happened. That is a bad thing. Thinking about things shouldn't be something that Claire is allowed to do, actually, she's pretty sure that Darci and Mary are collecting signatures around the campus to forbid it. Not that they could ever stop her, not even Claire can stop Claire from overthinking.

Anyways, the thing is: does she tell Miss Lake? She feels like she should tell her that strangers broke into her house, but then again, she will look irresponsible, also, monsters. There's no way Miss Lake, a responsible adult, would believe her. She decides that some things are better left unsaid. She also decides that some things are better to forget.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Claire is proud to say that she has done it, she has a new eye-bag record. It's official that this is the best impression of a raccoon she's ever done. Admittedly she hasn't had a good night's rest ever since she started college, that's just something that all students learn to deal with, but yesterday she couldn't stop thinking about Eldritch and Goliath.

She ended up taking the Daylight amulet (that's what Eldritch called it right?) with her home, fearing that the creatures would come back looking for it and attack Jim or something. Miss Lake would get a heart attack; then she would haunt Claire for eternity. She sighs and makes sure that the amulet is still in her bag. Yup, still real and a nightmare.

She can't just get rid of it though, knowing that somebody else would find it and get in trouble with those monsters. She feels responsible for it now, it sucks.

Back to the eye-bags, Claire has a real problem, mostly because the eye-bags are just an external 'tired meter' and she can't fall asleep at rehearsal again. Miss Janeth would never forgive her, that woman is serious about theatre.

On this line of thought, she really should go and tell Mister Strickler that she needs to leave his class ten minutes earlier to go to rehearsal (she has Miss Janeth's explicit permission to do so but she figures that she can't just get up and leave, that would be rude) so she sets course to his office.

Mister Strickler is a nice enough professor, he looks like he has tea at four o'clock and has a strict non-alcohol policy because it's 'unbecoming of a gentleman', he also looks like he plays chess. Claire is pretty sure that he's actually a part of the chess club, not really sure what part, but a part nonetheless.

His office is neatly lit and organized and he's reading through some papers when she arrives, looking like the perfect gentleman that he probably is. It somehow creeps the shit out of her, but she doesn't know why. Claire reminds herself that she's not here to analyze her teacher, it's tempting but he would probably find her out, and it would be awkward. Instead, she knocks on the table to get his attention.

 

“Ah, Miss Nuñez, please take a seat. To what do I owe this pleasure? You're not finding trouble with the lessons are you?”

 

“No, no, not at all. It's just, the day of the play is getting nearer and Miss Janeth has asked us to go to rehearsal earlier.”

 

“Which affects me because...”

 

“I was wondering, sir, if you wouldn't mind me leaving your class ten minutes earlier on thursdays...” Strickler seems to consider it for a moment.

 

“As long as your grades doesn't drop I don't have a problem with it.”

 

“Thank you so much sir, I'll study hard, I promise.” As she gets up to leave though, Strickler stops her, making a gesture as if to grab her wrist but stopping himself at the last minute. When she sits back he has a weird look on his face, for a moment he looks like he's staring at something in her bag, but he recovers instantly, making her think that she's just imagining things.

 

“Just know that if you have any questions, I'm always here to answer them.”

 

“I- Thank you, sir, I'll remember that.”

 

* * *

 

Claire is about to fall asleep, which is something she shouldn't do, mostly because there's a two year old she has to take care of. As in, she's getting paid to do that, so she can't exactly slack off, plus she kind of likes Jim and doesn't want him to get hurt? So no, sleeping is not an option.

Jim doesn't seem to mind that his caretaker is about to pass out on the sofa though, he's too busy playing with the amulet to- Oh, that's right, he shouldn't be playing with that, right? Claire is pretty sure that she left it on her bag but she was also pretty sure that 'Don Juan Tenorio' had been a play written anonimously and it turned out that it had an author and his name was José Zorrilla (the prick had sold all rights after writing it because he thought it wasn't a good play but that apparently doesn't matter) so, yeah, that happened.

The amulet starts glowing again before she's able to take it off Jim's hands and suddenly a _huge fucking sword_ materializes in Miss Lake's living room. That's uh, that shouldn't be there.

At this point in time though, Claire's life is made of 'Shouldn'ts' so she definetly doesn't panick. She definetly doesn't stiffens, picks Jim up, and leaves the room silently mouthing 'nope' to herself. And Eldritch and Goliath aren't waiting for her in the entrance hall. She definetly doesn't punch Goliath in the face either.

 


	2. Grand Theft Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry christmas, ho-ho-hoes! I'm back! >:D
> 
> Anyways, I haven't proof read this yet because it's almost five am so sue me, I'll do it when I have the time.

Claire's life has been getting weirder as of lately. As in 'there's a troll sitting across from her and sipping tea' kind of weird. Which, okay, could happen? Maybe?

 

Who is she lying to, this is totally weird and she's probably tripping because her room-mate brought weed cookies again to their dorm without warning her. Claire does not appreciate this, in fact, it would be very nice to stop hallucinating because she has to... do something... Is Goliath eating a VHS?

The giant troll is, in fact, eating one. And Claire swears that he looks at her with a look that says 'yeah, you broke your hand against my face earlier, whatchu gonna do'. Well, he isn't, but Claire is still salty about the whole ordeal and her hand hurts. Besides, he shouldn't be eating a VHS.

 

All in all, this is a really weird situation, and Claire decides to voice this, as if confirming the weirdness of the situation out loud would make it better.

 

“This is weird.”

 

It doesn't make anything better, but it does make the big guy pay her attention and stop eating VHS's, so that's cool.

 

“Not at all, Master Claire!” the one that has introduced himself as Blinky rapidly ensures. “Though it is true that the amulet had never chose a human before... However! Being the first doesn't mean being the worst, I am sure we can work our way around this... inconvenience.”

 

Claire hasn't told him that the amulet is actually reacting to the small child currently sleeping in her lap. But honestly, why should she trust these guys? They've broken into Miss Lake's house twice now, and they doesn't even look apologetic about it. Sure, they apologized for scaring the shit out of her earlier, but in her book trespassing is worse than scaring someone (she guesses? She's not really one to talk, she's trespassed into pools before with her friends, and, in one epic occasion, a library).

 

“And what does a Trollhunter do, exactly?”

 

“That is a very good question! You see, for centuries the trolls have been hiding from the humans in the depths of the earth, making sure that they stay hidden is one of your responsibilities.”

 

“Aaand the other one?” she asks, suspicious. Blinky seems hesitant to answer to this, which only increases her levels of 'aw, shit' because, as we all know, when someone doesn't want to answer something it's because they know you're not going to like the answer.

 

“Gumm-gumms.” announces Aaargh in a grim tone. Like that's going to help Claire. Which it doesn't. She's confused.

 

“The Gumm-gumms,” explains Blinky, “are a clan of human-eating trolls. You do not have to worry about all of them, of course, just Bular. He is the son of Gunmar, leader of the Gumm-gumms, and he's trying to bring his father and clan back from the darklands.”

 

Indeed, Claire doesn't like the answer. This comes to her as a surprise, considering that she lost the ability to like or dislike things when she entered college and died inside, but it's still a load of crap.

She's prevented from voicing this by Miss Lake, who arrives home at a very inappropriate moment. Thinking back, Claire should have known that she would arrive shortly, mostly because it's already past ten, but she was quite busy not having a panic attack, so she counts not having one as a victory and kicks the trolls out of the house (by the back door, mind you) and calls it a day.

 

She's pretty sure that Blinky still wants to discuss this, and that Aaargh still wants some more VHS's, but she's past the point of caring. Plus they're very proficient at sneaking into this particular house that she visits quite a lot so she's sure they'll manage.

 

The next day is Sunday, finally, which means the only thing she has to do is train and study... great. She doesn't count kicking someone's ass as a task per se, but having to study after a whole morning of gross sweating and exhaustion is not her idea of a good Saturday. A good Saturday is not leaving the side of her beloved bed until she really really needs to pee and then reading a good book, alone.

 

Not like she could be alone even if she did slept in though, she has a little pest called Mary, a room-mate if you will. For those of you that haven't had the 'luck' of having a room-mate, it's like living with a weird fusion between those horrible kids that don't stop talking and yelling at the cinema and that woman at the store whose sole purpose in life is to judge you by what you're buying. Yes, weird woman, I'm buying three packs of red bull, stop looking at me like that, I need them. I'm not judging you for those two bottles of wine and that cart almost full of bird food, am I?

 

In summary, no alone time for her save for Friday nights (in which her room-mate goes out and doesn't come back until she's consumed at least half of the rum stock in all Arcadia).

 

She gets up at the offending hour of seven, tries to avoid walking near the lovecraftian horror that is her room-mate before any decent hour and pretends she doesn't hear her moans of pain as she wakes up with a terrible hungover.

 

“Claire? Is that you?” Mary says, her words are still slurred.

 

“No, I'm the spirit of christmas future, here to tell you to go easy on the rum before your room-mate decides to change the room's lock.”

 

A single hand rises slowly from under the covers and flips her off. “Fuck you,” the disembodied hand says.

 

Claire finishes tying her shoes and, in a moment of brilliance, sets Mary's alarm to ring in half an hour before leaving for her usual jog around the campus. It's pleasant to have a routine, to know what will happen next and consequentially be prepared. She thinks this is why the trollhunter thing annoys her so much. It's not included in her routine, it's foreign to her. Not to mention that she doesn't have the time to be worrying about a world that didn't exist barely three days earlier.

 

She still hasn't decided what is she going to do about it, obviously Jim isn't fitted to be the trollhunter, what is he going to do? Throw his used diapers and let the gum-whatever perish via the smell? Not likely.

 

She arrives at the gym fifty minutes later with four new messages that she hasn't bothered reading because she knows they belong to Mary, and she's probably whining about what a terrible person Claire is. Claire cannot confirm nor deny those accusations.

 

Her coach is merciless, as always. She's the most muscular woman Claire has ever met and Claire wants to be like her when she grows up. She could bench press Claire with only one arm. She could destroy Claire with those thighs, and Claire would probably let her.

 

Okay, so she has a thing for her coach, that's true, she has to admit it. But _damn_.

 

The kick-boxing class finishes as always; with Claire wishing for the sweet release of death and water, but mostly water. Thankfully, she can solve at least one of those problems by walking to her bag, as for the other... she supposes the library is as good a place to die as any other.

She has to go back to her room and get changed first though, also, she has eight messages now, so she should probably read them before Mary starts going rabid on her or something. That would be unpleasant. The screen flashes as she starts reading.

 

First of all how dare u.

 

second of all

 

how dare u

 

How did u even unlock my phone

 

nvm

 

just bring painkillers and coffee

 

When r u coming back?

 

I'm srious I want coffee

 

Claire snorts, flings her sweater over her shoulder and sets course to the nearest Starbucks, which is actually pretty near. Turns out that setting shop near a campus of very sleep depraved students is good for business, who would've thought.

 

The guy at the counter has the coolest tattoos ever. She has seen him other times before, but she has yet to gather the courage to ask him where he got them (and if they were too expensive because they might look cool but she's broke). That, and she's lazy.

Do you ever want to do something that isn't really all that difficult but you're also like 'eh, another time, maybe'? Well yeah, that.

So she gives the guy a smile when he hands her her two coffees (it looks more like a grimace because Claire isn't good at smiling politely) and life goes on. She also gets a doughnut, just because she can.

 

She walks back to the dorm at leisure pace, because she's tired and because she wants to annoy Mary, and lets her gaze wander while she lazily chews on her glazed piece of heaven.

 

Mary isn't up yet when she arrives, but at least her head is outside of the covers and Claire decides that that's progress enough. She opens the blinds, earning a stream of curses from Mary, she has been getting more and more creative with those lately.

 

“Did you at least bring me my mocha?” Mary asks, her voice cracking.

 

Claire walks up to her and balances the cup on Mary's forehead as an answer, leaving it there and watching how Mary scrambles to grab it before it falls and stains the sheets, leaving her with no coffee.

 

Once she has finally managed to sit up without spilling the coffee, she glares at Claire, who just chuckles and shrugs before entering the shower. Mary did wake her up when she came tumbling and drunk as hell into the room; so an eye for an eye right?

 

The shower does wonders for her tired muscles and she sighs when she feels them relax; as much as she loves exercising and how light her body feels afterwards, the best part is always the shower.

 

Her shower is cut short when she hears her phone ring. Luckily, she is already drying off her hair when the annoying tone invades her ears, coupled with Mary's announcement of the obvious. She discards the blue-stained towel (she should go to dye her hair again, the blue is fading at an alarming rate) and goes to pick it up.

 

On the other side there's a very apologetic Miss Lake. Apparently there's been an emergency in the hospital and she needs a babysitter asap. Well, there goes Claire's studying session in the library. She can always study at the Lake household, but she would have liked to have the books in the library at her disposition. Well, there's just been a few weeks after midterms so she guesses that there's nothing wrong with taking it easy for now.

 

She obviously accepts, because she's not going to let little Jim down, just imagining his puppy eyes breaks her heart.

 

Miss Lake is practically waiting for her in the front porch with Jim on her arms. “Thank you so much Claire, I'm sorry for the short notice-”

 

“It's okay Miss Lake, really. I don't mind.”

 

Miss Lake gives her a radiant smile.“Oh you're such a good girl, no wonder Jim likes you so much.”

 

Claire laughs awkwardly, she has never been good at taking praise. It makes her feel uncomfortable rather than proud, but she isn't going to tell that to Miss Lake, she is just being nice and that would make things even more awkward. Claire would rather avoid that, to be honest.

 

In fact, she would rather avoid all interactions with anybody for the rest of the day, which is something she can thankfully do now that she is going to be babysitting. No need to go outside right? Maybe she'll take Jim to see his neighbour Tobias, they are so cute together... and his grandma makes such good cookies...

 

Miss Lake leaves her enough money to order some pizza for herself as a thanks for coming even in her free day and hurriedly leaves. There hasn't been a day when Miss Lake didn't leave practically running out the door, whether it be because she's actually late or because she took too much time saying goodbye to her son. It's quite endearing, if you had to ask Claire, and one of the reasons why Miss Lake doesn't intimidate her as much as she did before.

 

I mean; successful doctor, single mother (the circumstances are unclear to Claire, but does it even matter?) and with a neat big house? Miss Lake is what Claire aspires to be, sans the child perhaps, but yeah.

So, she was pretty intimidated by her before seeing her flaws and understanding that Miss Lake was just a person like any other. Not that she had stopped looking up to her.

 

Little Jim receives her enthusiastically, surprised but happy to see her on a Sunday, and then proceeds to nap for what's left of the morning.

 

Claire orders some pizza and then tries not to fall asleep on the couch as she reads through her notes, which is pretty damn difficult thanks to her chicken scratch. In the end she decides to call it a day and watch some TV, it's not like she procrastinates all that much anyways and one day is one day.

 

She is in the middle of a very interesting episode of Law and Order when the four armed horror of the day before taps her on the shoulder, almost making her fall off the sofa. She looks at him with an expression that she hopes conveys pure unadulterated hatred and he shushes her. He looks fidgety, eyes darting to the windows like he's expecting an attack.

 

“We must go, now, before he finds you,” he whispers.

 

Claire looks out the window, she hadn't realized that it was night already, and squints trying to see something outside. “Who's going to find me?”

 

“There's no time for explanations, Master Claire! He knows you have the amulet and he's coming for you! We need to move before he follows your scent to this house, quick!”

 

Claire looks at the big guy, hoping to get some sort of explanation, but he just shakes his head grimly. “Bular,” he says.

 

“Oh fuck, you mean the cannibal guy?!”

 

“Well,” starts Blinky, “it's not technically a cannibal if he doesn't ea-”

 

He is interrupted by a mildly (very) panicked Claire. “Who cares?!”

 

Claire scrambles to pick up her things and baby Jim in her arms, who barely opens his eyes to acknowledge the presence of the two trolls, not bothered by Claire's frantic state. She and her two companions hurry outside, and a distant part of Claire's mind registers that they might be just lying.

 

That is when the giant fucking gargoyle wannabe just straight up jumps down from the roof of Miss Lake's house and into its backyard. Claire screams and throws the squeaker she had brought with her at him; it bounces off of his right man-boob and he gives her an unimpressed stare.

 

“Well, fuck you,” she mutters.

 

Suddenly she feels something grab her by the back of he shirt and haul her over the fence of the backyard and the next thing she knows; she is running for her life with a baby in her arms (a baby that isn't hers, by the way. Things couldn't seem more sketchy even if she tried) and two rock monsters by her side while a third chases them and yells very disturbing threats.

 

She will admit that she appreciates his creativity when obscure imagery is involved.

 

They arrive at the canal with all their limbs attached out of sheer luck, the monstrosity the trolls referred to as Bular is rapidly gaining on them (videogames lied to her, 'the larger the slower' is complete bullshit).

 

“You cannot run forever, trollhunter! Turn back and face your death, running will only postpone it!”

 

“I'm good thanks!” she yells back in a moment of sheer dumbness.

 

Why did she do that. Why can't you just keep your mouth shut and run Claire, what is wrong with you. Talking to gargoyle guy isn't going to help.

 

“Where are we going? What's the plan?” she asks to whoever wants to answer, because fuck if she knows.

 

Eyes-for-days-guy points towards a wall under a bridge not far from where she found the amulet. “There!”

 

Claire does a double take. “That's a- It's a wall. It's a fucking wall.”

 

“We open door,” comes a deep voice somewhere to her right, Claire could swear that it has hints of amusement.

 

Right, the magic door to troll Narnia, they had told her yesterday? Maybe? Everything she remembers seems like it had happened so long ago that Claire isn't sure anymore.

 

As they run towards the wonder wall (see what she did there, wonder wall, heh), it occurs to Claire that there's nothing stopping big bulky guy from stomping them all to death while they do their magic mumbo jumbo to open the door-portal-whatever.

 

She weighs her possibilities and the danger to Jim that pose each individual and decides that Eldritch and Goliath are cool and that she is going to trust them for now, because what else can she do, really. She also decides that obviously the best suited to carry a baby is the one with the most arms.

 

“Hey, you!” she shouts, earning Eldritch's attention. “Hold this for me for a second.”

 

She passes Jim to the poor guy, who seems to panic for a second before looking at her like she has gone crazy. Jim, meanwhile, seems to be significantly more awake now and he pokes one of the creature's eyes.

 

“I'll distract him,” she explains, jabbing her thumb in Bular's direction. “You guys open the door meanwhile.”

 

Spider guy nods, still holding Jim as far from his eyes as possible with three arms as the fourth one covers the damaged eye. Jim giggles, delighted with this sudden after-nap adventure.

 

Claire turns around and watches the rockier version of the Hulk skid to a halt a mere steps away from her. “So, the trollhunter finally decides to face his fate,” he says, sounding somewhat pleased.

 

“Her,” Claire says, annoyed. He seems to freeze for a second before looking her up and down with a frown, as if asking 'are you sure about that?' “You're a fucking asshole,” she states.

 

Her answer comes in the form of a giant sword slicing the air dangerously close. Dangerously close because her reflexes made her dodge to the side, otherwise she would have just lost her head. She is torn between congratulating herself on dodging that or screaming and running away.

 

“Mind your tongue trollhunter, or I shall cut it,” he growls menacingly. Claire can't help but snort, because Darci once sent her a video of what an alligator mating call sounds like and they sound very alike. It's not the best time for a laugh.

 

The mutated rock alligator decides to slash at her again to avenge his manly wounded pride or whatever, and she finds that she is so far gone up the fear scale that she doesn't give a shit anymore. She jumps back, dodging again. This exchange of slice vs dodge goes on for about a minute before rock guy lets out another mating call (or a growl, if you  actually have a sense of preservation, unlike Claire).

 

“Face me, coward!” he yells, like a spoiled child who has been denied a toy.

 

“Nah, man. I'm go-”

 

A hand grabs her by the shirt again. Claire looks behind her and realizes that her game of cat and mouse has gotten her close enough to the portal for Goliath to grab. He pulls her inside at the same time that Claire hears the blade slice the air again and suddenly there's a wall where a very angry troll stood before.

 


	3. Friends on the other side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know that notes are a pain when you want to get to the chapter, but bear with me for a second.
> 
> You might notice that the writing style for this chapter has changed a little. There are multiple reasons for that, but the main one is that, even though I started this fic for shits and giggles, I have decided to actually think of a plot. The past writing style, while funny, is not cohesive with the story I want to tell.
> 
> Humour is still the main point of this story, don't get mistaken, it's just not the only one anymore.

The sudden silence is deafening in comparison to the death threats from Bular. Claire lets out a heavy exhale and lets her back slide against the wall. She closes her eyes for two seconds, listening intently for a signal of an attack, but she only hears the ragged breaths of the many eyed guy and the gurgles of tiny Jim. The big troll seems fine, oddly enough, and she suddenly wants to punch him. How dare he be fresh as a rose while she asphyxiates on the ground, it isn't fair.

 

Her left hand throbs and reminds her of what a terrible idea that would be.

 

She should probably ask for their names again, now that they have bonded over a near death experience. People become friends after that, right? Right.

 

“Master Claire! That was wonderful! You didn't told us that you were so good at dodging already, this will surely be a walk in the park for you!” yells eyelord. He is way too happy for what transpired a few seconds ago. Maybe he's bipolar. Maybe he's on crack.

 

The big guy offers her his hand to help her up and she is too tired to refuse it, if they're going to kill her please do it already; she can't deal with another angry alligator rock, or finals. She can't deal with either of those. They kind of land in the same category of 'Fuck this shit'.

 

Her not-so-new apathy towards death doesn't extend to Jim though, she would like to return him home before dying, preferably.

 

The boy in question is delighted to be in he-of-many-eyes' grasp and the troll seems to be at a loss of what to do, though when she gets closer to pick Jim up, the troll shakes his head. “It is alright, Master Claire, you must be tired after so valiantly facing Bular. And without using the amulet no less! I will take care of the child,” he trails off and suddenly looks between Jim and Claire, uncertainty written all over his six eyes. “If you'll let me, that is.”

 

Claire thinks about it for a second– Jim looks like he's having the best day of his life. She feels anxious leaving the baby she is supposed to take care of (her responsibility. _Hers_ ) in the hands of a stranger, but her arms and legs are trembling out of exhaustion, and probably because the fact that she almost died a few seconds ago is just catching up with her. She doesn't trust herself to carry anything right now, much less something fragile like a baby. In the end, though reluctantly, she lets the troll keep holding the baby.

 

Paying more attention to her surroundings – as much attention as she can pay not having consumed any caffeine since this morning – she realizes that she's surrounded by big ass crystals. Crystals bigger than her. If she got one of the big ones she might be able to pay her tuition _and_ still have money for groceries. Woah.

 

Why do they glow anyways? She isn't a biology major but she is pretty sure that bioluminescence is inherent to organic beings right? Maybe this is what glow-sticks are made of. Maybe trollkind lives in a perpetual rave.

 

Both trolls start to walk down a stairway made of the glowing rocks and Claire follows, if only to not let Jim out of her sight. What is her other option anyways? Go back to mister deadly and intimidating? No thanks.

 

The sight that greets her at the end is worth it, there are even more glow-stick rocks, these ones with warmer colors, giving the space a cozy feeling. The cavern is filled to the brim with trolls, and they seem to be in some sort of market area with shops and a few taverns strewn about. It's a busy market too, with vendors calling out to whoever passes near them to sell their products and, in short, too many people for Claire's liking. She suddenly feels like Mary's hangover has travelled all the way across the town just to be transferred to Claire herself. The glow-stick rocks don't look as appealing anymore, now that the light hurts her eyes and worsens her headache. Ugh, she has to get out of here because she's starting to get pissed off at this really shitty day and she's going to blow up on someone. On top of that, the nagging feeling that she has an unfinished project to do isn't helping. Does she even have a project due soon? Fuck if she knows. She probably does. There's always one. It's like being in purgatory or something.

 

She follows the trolls close behind while the green-blue troll chatters away about this place (Trollmarket, he calls it), never letting Jim out of her sight and successfully avoiding all contact with the myriad of trolls walking around her – an ability gained from all the nights Mary and Darci managed to rope her into going to one of their stupid, frat boy infested parties – and squinting to avoid the light. Seriously, where are her sunglasses and why is it that she never has them on her bag when she needs them?

 

She hits the big guy's back when he stops abruptly, and he turns around and gives her an apologetic smile that she is tempted to answer with a very colorful insult thanks to her shitty mood. A loud voice, louder than any voice has the right to be in her presence right now, serves as a nice distraction.

 

“What is the meaning of this Blinkous! You brought a fleshbag to Trollmarket?!” The voice, which must belong to a male, sounds angered. Almost as much as Claire is at whoever the fuck dared to yell at Jim's general direction.

 

“Hey!” she calls, stepping in front of who she now remembers as Blinky – who is holding a very confused Jim in his arms – and effectively diverting the attention of the yelling idiot to herself.

 

The loudest shitbag in history gives an angry huff and pounds his fist on the floor not unlike a gorilla. “ _Two_ fleshbags!” he exclaims aggravated. Claire just wants to pull on his nose ring until it tears off. Does nobody here have an inside voice? If Jim starts crying she is going to rip off his horns and...do something...with them. Gory arts and crafts with troll horns.

 

“New Trollhunter,” intercedes the big guy (Claire has yet to remember his name, sadly). “The amulet chose.”

 

“A human?! A puny fleshbag couldn't protect Trollmarket from a blind gnome!” big, blue and angry roars. “And what is the other one doing here, is it her spawn?!”

 

_Spawn?_

 

“He's not my son you fucking idiot, I'm his nanny!” Claire yells back at him baring her teeth; she doesn't suppose that 'nanny' is a title that inspires fear in the hearts of men or trolls, but the insult works wonderfully to make the hulking troglodyte in front of her angrier than before.

 

His nostrils flare as he steps towards her and hunches so his face is inches away from hers. “What did you call me, fleshbag?” he asks in a low voice, daring her to speak up again.

 

“Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings?” says Claire, stepping forward and into his personal space. She hopes he is as uncomfortable as she is right now. She also hopes someone defuses this situation because lord knows that the headache makes her too cranky to give a fuck about anything, but she's pretty sure that winning against this brute isn't within her capabilities right now. Or ever.

 

Thankfully, her new best friend; big mossy guy – who is, by the way, also an angel in disguise – steps between them, making her lose sight of the other troll. “Amulet chose,” he states firmly.

 

“Indeed,” adds Blinky. “And she even proved herself against Bular!” He scans the crowd that has been forming around them, pleased to hear the murmurs of awe. Jim gurgles his approval. “And, might I add,” Blinky says smugly, “without even using the armor!”

 

The murmurs grow in intensity and they take advantage of this to hurriedly exit the stage, not before hearing the blue guy from before threaten to tell this to someone called Vendel. Claire guesses he must be some sort of authority figure around here. Someone ought to tell the idiot that snitches get stitches.

 

They end up in a circular space that's completely devoid of other trolls and that Blinky proudly refers to as 'The Forge'. A little ways to the left she sees a few weapons resting, waiting to be used, she supposes. This must be a training ground. There's also some sort of hell-pit surrounding it and Claire gives up on ever seeing the bottom when she kicks a rock into it and never hears it drop. This place needs some railings, or maybe not failing to your death is part of the training experience, who knows?

 

She walks back to the two trolls and immediately grows suspicious, both of them are at one of the edges of the circle, Blinky still holding Jim and smiling in a way that makes her dread radar ping like crazy. That's the face Mary makes when she's going to introduce her to someone in the hopes of getting her a date. Nothing good can come out of this.

 

“Well, now that we know what you are capable of... Shall we perhaps start with something more... adequate?” says the asshole.

 

Blinky presses a button or whatever the hell it is and blades sprout from the walls and start swinging with a swooshing noise. More blades start to come out of _everywhere_ and Claire barely has time to avoid being cut in half by one while cursing and hearing Blinky laugh triumphantly. She is going to pluck his eyes out with a fork. All six of them.

 

The troll pushes again and this time the ground starts shifting until it's a terrible amalgamation of platforms. This feels like a place where you would have a boss fight.

 

A white troll, taller than the big guy (though it's true that he has the advantage of walking straight) comes in at that moment.

 

Claire takes it back, she doesn't want a boss fight. She's fine like this, really. Dodging things isn't that bad. He looks old though... maybe if she waits until a sudden movement on his part breaks his hip...

 

Thankfully the troll isn't here to kick her ass, as he makes it apparent when he yells at Blinky. She instantly likes him for that.

 

“Blinkous Galadrigal!”

 

Blinky looks like someone that has been found with the hand up to his elbow in the cookie jar, or somewhere else that you shouldn't put your forearm in. He stops the machine of doom and the floor turns into a floor again, to Claire's relief. She walks towards where he is, still cradling Jim with two of his arms, and gives him the worst glare she can. She is very tired, so it probably looks more like she is angrily threatening to fall asleep standing, but that's fine. That's how life is sometimes.

 

The new troll gives her a once over, looking displeased. “Is this the new trollhunter?”

 

“No, I'm his babysitter,” she deadpans.

 

Blinky laughs nervously and gives her a warning glance. “Master Claire, you have such a sense of humour!”

 

The white troll snorts derisively. “Which would be useful, indeed, if Bular could be distracted by such menial things.”

 

Claire decides that they can go fuck themselves. She also decides that it is time to clear a few misunderstandings before someone gets seriously hurt. Obviously, when they finally figure out that their amulet thing is broken and reacts to a baby they will cut the shit and leave them alone.

 

She takes Jim from Blinky and starts talking.

 

“Okay so, this is Jim.” She gestures to the baby. Blinky and the Mossy Monster nod, while the old troll levels her with an unimpressed stare. She continues. “As you can see, Jim is a human baby, all soft and squishy and nonthreatening. I am his nanny, which means that I'm in charge of his protection and continued existence in general, because he cannot protect himself, or anyone. Do we all agree on this?”

 

The trolls look at her, confused, but nod in understanding, so she keeps talking. “Alright then, now that we have that down, let's get to the important part.” Claire takes the amulet out of her pocket, where she had put it before running away, and gives it to Jim, who squeals happily. The tiniest armor ever in existence materializes itself around the baby, surprising everyone, Claire included. She is going to take a picture of him in armor as soon as possible though, that shit is adorable (if completely unexpected, she is having a hard time not freaking out).

 

Blinky points at her with a trembling finger, then at the baby, then back at her. The other trolls stare. Blinky covers his face with four hands and screams.

 

“I know right?” she says sympathetically. It _is_ pretty cute. “So, can you like, take the amulet back so it stops following my charge around? It's pretty dangerous, and it's kind of making my job difficult.”

 

The old troll's voice, when he answers, is sorrowful. “I am afraid we cannot take the amulet from the whelp.”

 

“What? Why not?! I thought we had already established that he can't be the troll-whatever!” she protests, clutching Jim a little bit harder in her arms.

 

“The _Trollhunter_ ,” says the white troll, stressing the word, “is not chosen by us, but the amulet. And the amulet can only be passed down when the chosen Trollhunter is no more.”

 

There is a silence, thick and sluggish, like honey, that Claire manages to swim through. “You mean-”

 

“Dead,” says the moss-covered troll.

 

“The fuck do you mean by that?! He's a baby- a fucking baby! You can't just expect-”

 

Claire's angry rant is interrupted by the glow of the amulet. It dislodges itself from the baby-sized armor, which dissolves into the air, and floats towards Claire's... left... boob...?

 

Uh.

 

The screeching sound of an infernal contraption sprouting from the ground like a glorified hellish plant halts any thought that might have been forming in Claire's head.

 

UHH.

 

Blinky who – thank fuck – has decided to stop screaming in despair and rejoin the conversation, stares at the thing in reverence. “The Soothscryer...” he whispers, and shares A Look with the old guy.

 

Well, that doesn't answer shit.

 

“Hey– guys? You know what would be cool? An explanation,” she says in a shrill voice. “I'm hella into those. Information is my new kink. So, you know, what the hell is _that_?”

 

Blinky looks at her, confused. “I'm afraid I don't know what a kink is, Master Claire-”

 

“The Soothscryer,” interrupts the old guy, “judges new Trollhunters and decides their worth. Though– usually, it doesn't spring into action on it's own...” he finishes, fingers combing through his goatee, lost in thought.

 

As if on cue, the Soothscryer speaks. “Claire...” it calls in a spectral amalgamation of voices. Claire is not compelled to go anywhere near it. In fact, she takes a step back and hugs Jim closer. That thing is _creepy_.

 

“Oh! Master Claire, I believe the Soothscryer wishes to know your worth!” Blinky smiles, looking excited. He needs to have that looked at, seriously, being excited by this short of creepy shit can't be a healthy reaction. She takes another step back.

 

“Yeeeeah, how about no?”

 

“Claaaaire...” the Soothscryer calls again, insistent. The amulet, still over her left boob (really, there wasn't any other place for it to stick onto? It looks like a pastie, for fuck's sake), starts pulling towards the damned thing. It is unpleasant, to say the least. Claire does not appreciate any of this.

 

The white troll speaks again. “The Soothscryer has also been known, in rare occasions, to work as a nexus to the void between worlds.”

 

“Not. Helping.” It is not hard to pull against the amulet so as not to be dragged to the machine of doom, but it is starting to become more and more insistent.

 

“You are being summoned by the spirits of past Trollhunters, child. Do not fight it. If you truly wish to protect the new Trollhunter go: speak with them. They might know a way around this–” the white troll gestures at the baby, “situation.”

 

Claire looks down at Jim. He looks back. “Ugh, you better not grow up into an ungrateful teen.” The baby gives her a toothless smile. Claire purses her lips. “Fine. Hey, big guy,” she calls. The mossy giant points at his face as if asking 'me?'. “Yeah, you. Sorry, I forgot your name...”

 

“Aaarrrgh,” he provides helpfully. “Three a's.”

 

Claire nods. “I'll remember that. Could you hold him for a bit?” she asks, pointing to Jim. Aaarrrgh's eyes widen in surprise, and he takes the baby almost reverently, like he had never dared to dream that somebody would let him hold a baby. Huh, weird. It's not like she's going to let Blinky hold him again though, she is still salty about the whole 'blades sprouting from everywhere' ordeal, and he does not deserve to be near her sweet little pudgy ball of joy. Nuh-uh. Holding Jim is a privilege and you have to earn it.

 

She walks to the Soothscryer and sees that it resembles a monstrous face, the 'teeth' inside its mouth start spinning and, to her dismay, the white troll tells her to put her hand in that thing. She hesitates for a second, looking back at Jim, and the amulet pulsates as if annoyed by how much time it's taking her. “If I lose my hand I'm suing all of you for emotional damage,” she mutters.

 

The moment her hand enters the hole she feels something pulling at her very being and the sensation of floating and suddenly she is in a different, more bluish, version of the Forge. Neither the Trolls nor Jim are here, just a bunch of floating balls of glowing mist.

 

Freaky.

 

“Claire Nuñez,” calls a male voice behind her. She lets out a startled yelp and turns around to karate chop whoever dared to sneak up on her. Her hand phases through his chest and the new troll looks at her unimpressed. She pulls her hand away and stares it it in awe as he introduces himself. “I am Kanjigar the Courageous, the previous Trollhunter. Luck or fate had you find the amulet amongst my remains.”

 

“Woah that was you? I thought it was an ugly statue.” Claire realizes that maybe, just maybe, she should try to use a filter for whatever it is that comes out of her mouth. Kanjigar gives her a blank stare.

 

“...Thanks.”

 

“I mean, not like an ugly ugly statue, like an originally ugly statue, you know? Modern art... and- uh, stuff...” Claire coughs into her hand, uncomfortable. Kanjigar looks into the distance, probably dissociating. A voice in the background snorts, it seems to come from one of the floating lights.

 

Finally, he sighs. “Right. Well, your job is to protect the child that the amulet has chosen, is it not?”

 

“Yes...”

 

“Then that makes things easier,” he says, and looks at her expectantly. It takes some time for Claire to understand what he's suggesting.

 

“Oh. OH. Wait. You think I'm going to fight that massive guy? Hell no. Do I look crazy to you or something?” If he thinks that she is going to risk her ass because a chunk of glowy metal says so he is sorely mistaken.

 

“Bular already knows your scent, and mistakenly thinks that you are my successor. He will hunt you down no matter your decision.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “What I offer is training, the option to put up a fight. Would you run away, or wait for your death instead?”

 

Claire looks down, frowning. Realizing that she is doomed to die terribly is not something she thought she would do today. Maybe have an anxious episode over the next test, or something equally mundane and mind-numbing. Kanjigar is right though, she will have to fight for her life, whatever she chooses, so if he is offering help... Well, who is she to reject it? Although...

 

“And how are we supposed to keep up the lie? Blinky explained to me about the armor and the sword; if he doesn't see me use either, he is bound to realize that I'm not the Trollhunter sooner or later.”

 

Kanjigar's lip twitches in what she thinks might be a smile of approval. “There is a way for you to be able to wield Daylight.”

 

“Yo lost me,” she deadpans.

 

“Daylight is the sword.”

 

“Oooh. Okay, so, what is it?” She watches as one of the light orbs floats nearby, resisting the urge to touch it. Her hand will probably phase through, like it happened with Kanjigar before. But still...

 

Kanjigar clears his throat, getting back her attention. “Ideally you should have died,” he starts to explain.

 

Well, okay then. Great start.

 

“Morbid much?” she mutters. He continues his explanation, but she is sure that he heard her.

 

“That way my spirit, or any other spirit of a past Trollhunter, would be able to posses your body during a fight. You would still look like you and the Trollhunter possessing you would be able to use the amulet and summon the armor and sword. However, only one that has walked the path close to death could form a bond so strong with a spirit, so none of us will be able to posses your body to help you fight. As it is, taking one of us with you will let you summon the sword through our link, but nothing else. You will have to fight your own fights, I'm afraid.”

 

That there is no way in hell she would let a dead guy posses her body, she does not say. She is tempted, but she doesn't, because she is the new Claire, and the new Claire has a Filter. Instead, she says, “so I get the sword and that's it, right?”

 

Kanjigar nods. “That is correct.”

 

“Wait, what do you mean by 'taking one of us with you'?” she asks, alarmed. She does not want to be haunted, thanks.

 

“The Council – that is, the spirits of deceased Trollhunters – reside in the space between worlds, which is connected to the amulet. If you take it with you, one of us will come to your aid when called upon, and enter your body, letting you summon Daylight.” As if sensing her reluctance, he adds, “said spirit would only stay for the duration of the battle.”

 

“Oh, yeah, because just being partially possessed during a short period of time is any better,” she says sarcastically. She might be freaking out a little.

 

“It is the only way we know of aiding you.”

 

She looks at him, as if by staring at him long enough she would devise a better plan for some reason. He stares back, calmly, which is annoying, given the situation. She would appreciate not freaking out alone. Somehow overreacting in group is less humiliating.

 

Finally, she gives in. “Fine. We'll try your idea and see how it works.”

 

“That is all I ask for,” he says, and his voice dissolves towards the end, as does the room around her.

 

When she opens her eyes, she is back at the room with the trolls.

 

Wait. Does that mean that she is going to wear the amulet as a glowy pastie every time she fights? She forgot to ask Kanjigar. Then again, does she really want to ask the (previous) Trollhunter if she is going to have the amulet stuck to her nipple?

 

….Maybe not.

 

The old troll quirks an eyebrow. “Well?”

 

“So I met this guy, Kanjigar. He says that I can get ghost powers through the amulet...?” At the white troll's deadpan glare, she elaborates. “He says that if I keep the amulet with me I should be able to channel the spirit of a past Trollhunter to summon Daylight. Not the armor though, and I'm not sure about how the possession thing works because he said something about me having to almost-die to form a stronger link and, like, I don't wanna do that... so... they can't possess me?”

 

“This is amazing, Master Claire! I had never heard of something like this happening! Such a fascinating phenomenon!”

 

 _Well_ , Claire thinks, watching Blinky's eyes light up in excitement, _at least someone is having fun_.

 

“Hmph, I suppose that it will have to work, at least until the true Trollhunter is able to do his job,” the old guy muses, eyeing Jim. “Blinkous,” he calls, “you will train the Trollhunter's Nanny as you would any other Trollhunter, as she will have to take on his responsibilities.”

 

The white troll leaves then, before Claire is able to protest, or at least point out that being called the 'Nanny' of a supposedly troll warrior – it doesn't matter that the amulet has chosen Jim this time, it's still a warrior's title – is very bizarre.

 

Still, she can't very well just leave these people without their guardian, can she? If what they told her the other day is true, trolls are rather dependant of the Trollhunter. Can't just somebody else do it? She has shit to do...

 

Her thought process is interrupted by the sound of her phone. It's Miss Lake, calling to say that she has just finished her shift and is coming back soon and 'is Jim in bed yet or am I in time to say goodnight'?

 

_Fuck._

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“I should be out there, ripping out her spine.”

 

Strickler sighs, and massages the bridge of his nose. Bular has been _whining_ for at least an hour, just– straight up whining. What is he, a child? “I already explained this to you, you can't just go and kill one of the star students of Arcadia University, the daughter of the damn Mayor; people will notice. People will _investigate_. We can't let that happen.”

 

Bular growls in frustration, then roars at a changeling that made the mistake of existing near him.

 

Strickler rolls his eyes. Honestly, he's seen toddlers throw temper tantrums before, and they looked very simmilar. “I will find another way to get the amulet. We do have spies of the Janus Order infiltrated as students, remember? The amulet will be ours in no time.”

 

Bular turns sharply, towering over Strickler. He can smell the copper scent of blood and feel the damp warm breath on his face.

 

“Do. Not. Disappoint me.”

 

Strickler freezes at the proximity, and is unable to relax until the hulking form of the Gumm Gumm is out of his sight.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

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...still here?

 

If you're still thirsty for more Trollhunters' fan content, why don't you go read **[What Falls and What Grows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9795827/chapters/21997820)** by **quietpagan**? Or **[A Night Owl's Guide to Trolls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9635729/chapters/21767720)**  by **Lusey**?

I really, _really_ like them and if it wasn't for them I wouldn't have the inspiration for continuing this one, to be honest. ~~That and a burning desire to punch Merlin in his old wrinkly face~~.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Unlike in the past, and now that this fic has a concrete direction, I'm going to try and update it at least once a month. (I'm also going to try and answer the reviews as soon as I get them because I haven't answered the past ones yet and I feel like shit :') ).


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